


Watching You

by HeroMaggie



Series: The  Consequences of Laundry Day Surprises [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Fenders, Fenris watches Anders - frequently, Flirting, M/M, Smut, anders is clueless
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-03
Updated: 2015-06-03
Packaged: 2018-04-02 17:15:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4068064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeroMaggie/pseuds/HeroMaggie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A single interruption during Anders' laundry day leaves Fenris with a fascination for the mage. And as he starts to pay attention more and more, his feelings slowly start to change till he - finally - makes his move.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Watching You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [StormDragon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/StormDragon/gifts).



> For the always delightful Stormdragon! I do believe I promised you some smut for your lovely Anders Hugging gifs!
> 
> **no..NO...I am not starting another series. I SWEAR IT!

Anders’ hand rubbed against the back of his neck for what seemed like the tenth time in the last couple of hours. He could feel eyes watching him closely, too close for his comfort. But every time he turned his head all he saw was Fenris gazing down at his feet and Varric chattering away to the silent elf. It was becoming a bit disconcerting to say the least.

At his side strode Hawke, his face bright and happy as he retold one of his sillier stories. Laughter boomed around the group as Hawke’s fingers flitted in the air as he spoke, the gestures growing more grandiose as the story of him taking down a cave full of boot-chewing dragonlings crested towards its inevitably bloody end.

Those eyes were still on him. Anders stopped listening to Hawke and rubbed at his neck…again. He pretended to stumble, looking back as he caught himself on a rock near the Wounded Coast path they were traversing and made eye-contact with Fenris. The elf raised an eyebrow and Anders went pink in the cheeks.

Fenris…Fenris was staring at him.

He had been for a couple of weeks now. Ever since laundry day, when the elf had shown up to his clinic injured, something minute had changed. Something fundamental but small. The elf still growled and brooded, still snarked about mages, but all of his snarking seemed to be distinctly more…general…in nature. Less personally directed towards Anders.

And then there was the watching.

Anders wasn’t sure what to do about it. Or if he wanted to do anything about it. Or if something should be done about it. He just knew that the mage-hating elf capable of phasing his fist into people to yank out important internal organs had taken an interest in him and it was scaring the pants off of him.

***

Fenris watched as Anders tripped over a pebble and catch himself on a large rock bordering the path. He caught the mage’s eye and watched with avid interest as the man’s cheeks pinked. It made the elf bite the inside of his cheek just a little, just enough to keep the smile from crawling up his lips.

The mage was fascinating - had become intriguing. Ever since Fenris had caught him doing his laundry – seen those scars covering that lean body, he had been…well…captivated. He might have worried that a spell had been cast on him but the feelings had started just before Anders had healed him….before those delicately long fingers had pressed against his wounded side and the warm burst of Anders’ magic curled over him.

And ever since that moment, Fenris had found himself drawn in. He listened more…listened as the mage talked about the plight of other mages, talked about the Circle and the templars, and he wondered why Anders never brought up his own scars.

And when Anders wasn’t going on and on about mage rights, Fenris slowly discovered that the man had a wicked sense of humor, could be incurably kind to the downtrodden, rarely slept, gave every last bit of coin away, and nearly starved himself to allow others even less fortunate eat.

And it was becoming a little maddening. For one, Fenris had no idea how to proceed with any sort of courtship. If that was even the word to use. Two, he wasn’t sure the mage would be receptive. And three, there was Justice to consider.

The man was processing of one…spirit? Demon? He had Justice, and it made the entire situation a million times more complex than it already was.

So Fenris watched Anders with avid eyes, eyes that slid covetously over the mage whenever possible, and wondered if watching was all that could ever come of this…this mess.

***

  
The Hanged Man was always where the group went post job. Kill slavers? Hit up the Hanged Man for a brew. Kill a dragon? Go listen to Varric embellish the tale while grabbing a drink. Spend half the day hiking along the Wounded Coast to kill bandits? Head to the Hanged Man for cards and sour ale. It was a constant for the group.

And once there, the group had a seating arrangement at the table and certain protocols they followed. Varric sat at the head of the table. On his right was Hawke and on his left was Isabela. Merrill sat next to Hawke…or sometimes on Hawke, depending on their mood. Next to her was Fenris and next to Isabela was Anders. The seat next to Anders was taken by Aveline or Sebastian – who ever showed up first. The chair at the foot of the table, back facing the door, went to whomever was last in.

Everybody would show up, take a sip of their ale, and then decide if they were sticking with swill or going after something harder. And then Varric would start a story, Isabela would pull out cards, Hawke would nag Anders into eating a bowl of mystery stew, and Fenris would nurse a bottle of red while trading barbs with Anders and Merrill and witty commentary with everybody else.

There was a routine there…one that was broken that evening. Oh sure, Fenris sat next to Merrill’s chair…empty because she was curled up on Hawke’s lap. But when Anders went to sit in his chair, Fenris raised his eyebrow and gestured to the seat next to him. The look was quite pointed.

Anders, unsure of what to do, fell into what was normally Merrill’s seat. Merrill just leaned over and pressed a quick kiss to the blond man’s forehead and resumed snuggling Hawke…who looked at Anders with surprise.

“That’s not your seat…” Hawke frowned slightly. “Not that I mind…I mean, Merrill is no hardship to hold but…”

Anders glanced at Fenris and then swallowed slightly, “Ah…thought I’d…change it up a bit. Is that alright? Merrill?”

“Mm? I don’t mind. Do you mind, ma’arlath? I don’t mind. I like sitting on Hawke’s lap. He’s so cuddly!” Merrill chirped happily.

“Well…alright…” Anders glanced over at Fenris who gave him a bland look. “Wow, the room looks…surprisingly not different from this side of the table.”

“Why are you over there, handsome?” Isabela slouched into the room and draped herself over her chair. “Who will I fondle if you’re all the way over there?”

“Maybe Sebastian can sit in my seat?” Anders cast another slightly desperate look at Fenris.

“Mm…it’s just not the same, Sparklefingers,” Isabela crooned.

Not exactly sure why he was even sitting next to Fenris in the first place, Anders went to scoot the chair back to move and found himself pinned in place by one well-placed hand on his thigh. The hand squeezed gently, gauntlet tips lightly pressing into his pants, and he cut off a squeak. “Erm…yes, but he does blush so prettily when you flirt with him.”

The unfortunate former Chantry Brother chose that moment to walk in and found himself square in Isabela’s sights.

“Hey there Sexy,” she purred.

“Sweet Maker! Anders, why are you over there?” Sebastian stuttered to a halt as Isabela patted the seat next to her. Anders gave him a shrug and the archer shuffled forward to sit, stiffly, next to the grinning pirate. “Ahhh…” he exhaled as Isabela rearranged herself to drape over Sebastian’s shoulder.

“Mm…you’re right Anders. This is more fun,” Isabela purred directly into Sebastian’s ear.

“I need a drink! Something stronger than the ale...yes!” the man rocketed up from the chair and hurried back down to the bar.

“Oh yes…this will be fun…you are a bad, bad man, Anders,” The pirate gave a husky laugh and settled in to wait for Sebastian to return.

“That’s me…a bad…bad…man,” Anders coughed as Fenris’ hand slid a little higher on his thigh, the strong fingers now massaging, little pricks of not-quite-pain happening when the gauntlet tips dragged a bit. “I…ah…need a drink?”

Fenris slid a cup of ale in front of the mage. The very corner of the elf’s lips twitched up, amusement starting to dance in his eyes as he let his hand slide a hair higher. The mage stiffened as the tip of one finger grazed at the crease of leg and thigh.

“Thank you?” The words were a breathy question and the entire table turned their eyes to the healer.

“You ok there, Blondie? You look a little peaked,” Varric directed the question at Anders but was eying Fenris with speculation.

“Just tired. I think…I think I should head home. Headache. Wouldn’t want to make anybody sick…” Anders pulled away and the elf’s fingers slid off his leg. He could still feel where that one finger had teased high up on his thigh and he hoped, dearly hoped, he could make it back to the clinic before anybody noticed his pants were fitting slightly funny.

Fenris watched the mage hurry out and then turned to look at Varric. The dwarf’s lips twitched and he minutely nodded at the door. Fenris narrowed his eyes at his friend and then stood. “I shall make sure he makes it home safely.”

“Oh. That’s awfully nice of you Fenris…” Merrill gave Fenris a beaming smile.

“Who else would keep Hawke standing when we go to the Bone Pit?” was the quick response.

“Good point,” Hawke said as Merrill patted his cheek and pressed little kisses to his nose. “Good luck!”

Fenris simply stalked from the room, mind already on the mage that had fled the tavern.

***

“Oh shit…oh shit…” Anders was muttering softly to himself as he hurried through Darktown and to his clinic. He was so befuddled by what had just happened that he barely latched both doors closed. He just slammed them shut, fiddled with the locks, and then scurried to his back cubby.

Fenris had been touching him. As in hands on his thigh touching him…as in fingers rubbing his leg touching…and he had gotten hard and that…this…Anders’ brain seized up and Justice roiled around trying to make sense of the conflicting feelings.

As far as the spirit was concerned, the elf was a challenge AND sang of the Fade. To Justice, Fenris was rather a win-win situation - a veritable wealth of lyrium song and a chance to speak of the cause. Justice told Anders to calm down and not do anything stupid.

Anders was more concerned that he was one step away from possibly having his heart removed. Or perhaps he was in the Fade. Was he in the Fade? Had he fallen asleep? Was that a demon and not Fenris?

He had just pinched his arm when the door to his clinic opened. He heard it open and then close…the latch being seated firmly closed. The closing of the door, along with the pain from the pinch, convinced Anders that he was not dreaming. So he was awake…awake and Fenris had…groped him. Sweet Maker what was going on?

Anders took a few halting steps into his clinic…expecting what, he wasn’t sure, and found himself with an arm full of spikey-armored elf and backed against the wall.

“Fenris…” Anders gasped.

“Mage…” the response was strained.

They stared at each other, Anders in confusion and Fenris trying to figure out where to go from there…emotions flitting over the elf’s face as he struggled with himself. Finally, he settled on pulling off his gauntlets, the metal clanging softly as it fell to the packed dirt floor. One hand came up and slid over a whiskered jaw to cup and draw the mage’s face down.

“Anders…” Fenris whispered a moment before his lips touched the mage’s. A question really…the slide of lips over lips, Anders’ hand reaching up to cup Fenris’ wrist in both surprise and sudden pleasure…the deepening pressure, the quick lick of a tongue.

“What?” Anders blinked in shock. “Fenris?”

“I saw you…that day you did laundry. Your scars…the way you held yourself. Why am I drawn to you? You are…you should be…but you are not,” The words didn’t make much sense but Fenris didn’t care. Not with the mage right there in his arms, not with those lips against his. Not when the mage himself was slowly yielding.

“Drawn to me? To me…a mage?” Anders was relaxing into the embrace, body aflame from the kisses. “Did you hit your head while we were out?”

There was a struggle going on in Fenris’ head. His eyes opened wide and he said one word - “want” - the only word Fenris could think to say. A word he shouldn’t say…a feeling he shouldn’t have. But he did. He wanted and Anders seemed to understand something of what he was saying because the kiss turned bruising, teeth nipping at lips and tongues twining together.

Fenris found himself pulled into a small cubby, thrust back and down onto a bed that was more cot than anything. And his arms were full of mage…lips filled with the taste of Anders, nose filled with the smell of herbs and healing and magic. He tugged at Anders’ coat - tore at the buckles and slid the entire garment off, flung it across the room. Hands slid under the worn tunic to scratch at the mage’s flat stomach, tease at the fine hairs that marched from bellybutton down and under the waist of the mage’s pants.

He was rewarded with a bite to his neck and Anders pulling away to tug off his tunic and then stand and shimmy out of his pants and boots. Fenris let out a slight laugh at the shimmy and pulled at his armor, at his own clothing…till both men were naked and Anders was sprawled back over Fenris, lips pressed tightly to the elf’s while hands roamed and explored.

The slide of Anders’ cock over Fenris’ had the elf gasping sharply, his hips rising to meet the rub – to chase the friction. Anders rolled his hips again and the breath stuttered out of Fenris, the two of them groaning, panting. There were no questions asked, Anders simply reached between their bodies and wrapped one hand around their lengths…a tug of magic at Fenris’ tattoos and the hand was slick and warm and sliding…their hips grinding together.

Surging up, Fenris bit at Anders’ throat and growled, dug his nails into the mage’s shoulder and marked him as he came, heat spurting between their bodies, Fenris shuddering…then Anders….the two of them collapsing on the bed tangled together, sweaty and sticky and ripe with the smell of sex.

“Sweet Maker,” Anders gasped against Fenris. “Bloody void.”

Fenris responded with a kiss to one clavicle, laving the skin with his tongue before biting down. “I want to be inside of you. I want to make you scream and writhe.”

“Andraste’s pearly ass…” Anders swore.

“Is that a no?” Fenris hooked a leg around Anders and rolled them so that he was on top and could sit up to straddle the mage.

“That’s a…you’re going to kill me with sex. Is that your plan?” Anders gazed up at Fenris and watched with concern as the elf gave a rusty laugh that turned into a cough. “What…what brought this on? Not that I’m complaining…”

“I have been watching you, Anders. I was wrong about a lot of things. I have no…gentleness, no knowledge of how to best woo you. I ask your forgiveness for that,” Fenris brushed a hand down Anders’ chest. “But I wish to try.”

“But you…we don’t…arguing…we argue…” Anders sputtered.

“And that means I cannot be attracted? That I cannot value your words? Mage, I would try if you would let me.” Fenris stilled his hand. “I have never given you any cause to think anything of me but vitriol and hate. But I saw how you healed me. And I watched how you gave of yourself and I…would…wish to…’ He frowned, trying to find the words.

Anders watched the elf, felt Justice swirl and press against his mind…the spirit pleased with the proximity of the elf, pleased with the words. And if Justice could give the elf a chance…Anders could too. “We could…try.”

Fenris’ face lit up with a smile, “So that means I may make you scream later?”

Anders gave him a sly smile, “You can certainly give it a go. Are you going to keep watching me?”

Fenris’ answer was a long, deep kiss…fingers tangling in blond hair, and the press of his body to the mage’s.

**Author's Note:**

> I can be found on Tumblr as Warriormaggie


End file.
